Broken Glass
by M.A. Blackthorn
Summary: Remus LupinLucius Malfoy Slash. He'd read somewhere that werewolves mate for life. Too bad he never had a say in whom that would be with. Chapter 3 added.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: All characters, places, and the like are property of the lovely and talented J.K. Rowling. No money is being made off this story. Blah blah blah.  
  
A.N. - This will be a Lucius Malfoy/Remus Lupin romance. Yes, I know, they are an extremely unlikely couple. Hell, I didn't even see the possibilities until I read 'Universal' by Rubicon. It's an excellent story and I reccommend it to all those Remus/Lucius skeptics out there. So, therefore, I dedicate this story to Rubicon, although she (or he, I'm not quite sure) doesn't know it yet.  
  
Oh yeah, slashiness ahead, I don't know how intense it'll get, so as of right now, the rating will be PG-13. If it gets really intense, I'll change it, so don't fret, kids.  
  
I am a feedback junky. Please review with all comments, flames, suggestions, what have you. I'd really appreciate it. Thanks.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Remus winced as he heard the front door slam, signaling his father's departure. He remained stationary, crouched by the foot of his bed until he heard the crunch of gravel outside as his father's Muggle car pulled out of the driveway. Once the headlights streamed past his curtained windows, Remus made an attempt to stand. He staggered, feeling a bolt of pain course through his leg. He shifted his weight, making his way to the bathroom down the hall while the ache in his leg continued to throb.  
  
As he stared into his reflection, he saw the same gaunt face he always did. The defined chin and high cheekbones gave his face an angular appearance. His tawny brown hair, mussed from the previous ordeal, stuck to his forehead with drying blood. With the exception of the blood stains and bruises, Remus' reflection would have been that of a handsome young man, with eyes that betrayed the experience of the emotional battlefield his life had become. Now, however, his face was decorated with swollen red markings, his father's parting gifts. By morning, he knew they would turn an unpleasant shade of purple. This knowledge had been garnered from experience.  
  
He began to nurse the new souvenirs of his most recent argument with his father. I never should have let him find out, he told his bruised reflection silently. His parents had already made their contempt for their son known, repulsed by Remus' infliction, lycanthropy. The disease that he had been plagued with since childhood. Then, they saw him as a monster, and now they saw him as a freak.  
  
He tossed the once white linen towel into the sink, letting the faucet run until the water steamed. He watched the towel soak, slowly turning the water a faint pink. It was hard to believe that it was his blood. He supposed he should have come to accept it by now, but every time his father became destructive, Remus felt that it was becoming increasingly worse.   
  
He remembered the incident that had marked the beginning of this new chapter of his life. It was a vivid image, still too raw to dwell upon. The memory was one of crushed hopes, betrayal, and confusion. The simple act of remembering seemed to cause a new wound to form, this one not appearing on his body, but the pain was even greater. He knew no amount of nursing would make the incessant ache in his chest disappear. That particular wound was still too fresh and would remain that way, Remus assumed, forever.  
  
I never should have let him see, he thought again. Those words had become his newly adopted silent mantra.   
  
Remus stumbled back to his room, each step making the pain in his leg intensify. It felt as though his bones were made of jagged glass. He numbly wondered if anything was broken. He collapsed onto his bed, unable to stand on his own power. His eyelids suddenly became too heavy as the room began to spin. The possibility that he had a concussion was becoming more and more likely.   
  
The ache he felt in his leg had gone from a dull throb to a blinding white pain. He let his eyes close, no longer having the will to resist, and felt himself being dragged away from his own body. He unwillingly gave in to the memories that were threatening to envelope him. Unseen hands groped at him from the darkness, forcing him into shadows.   
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
A.N. - Please review. Please. Feedback is my sustenance, my oxygen, the very thing that keeps my heart beating, my blood flowing, and my fingers typing. Pweeze? ^_^  
  
- M.A. Blackthorn 


	2. A Fond Remembrance

Disclaimer: Characters and places (with the exception of Remus' parents) are property of J.K. Rowling. The plot is my own creation.   
  
A.N. - Remus Lupin/Lucius Malfoy pairing. Odd, I know. Slashiness of a fluffy nature ahead. No sex . . . yet. *evil grin* Any and all reviews are appreciated and provide me with motivation to continue. Lucius is a little OOC, but I had so much trouble writing him. Please review. On with the show.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
```````````````````````   
Ch. 1 A Fond Remembrance   
```````````````````````   
  
  
  
Remus cast a nervous glance around his room. For the past three hours, he'd cleaned, dusted, scrubbed, and fussed over his bedroom, striving to make it look like a picture of perfection. For the most part his efforts had been in vain, simply performed out of habit, for the room had already worn the appearance of such cleanliness that it seemed no one had stepped foot inside for months. That much was true. For nine months, Remus had been inhabiting the Gryffindor boy's dormitory of the Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even there, his living space in the dormitory was marvelously neat. Remus felt he owed it to Professor Dumbledore, headmaster of the prestigious school. After all, Professor Dumbledore was the only administrator of any wizarding school in Europe that would accept Remus Lupin.   
  
As a child of only six, he had barely survived an attack by a maddened werewolf. He had escaped with his life, but the incurable disease of lycanthropy had been passed on to him, plaguing him to the present. Since then he had been treated as a pariah, a thing to be feared. His own parents had been stricken with grief and horror when they had discovered their son's affliction. They had tried to suppress it during the first few months and who could blame them? Werewolves had reputations as irrationally violent entities, losing themselves and their humanity with the coming of the full moon. When they had finally learned that any attempt to curb the wolf within their son would fail, they had given up hope, or so it seemed to Remus. He doubted, in all sincerity, if his parents were more concerned with his well-being as a human than their shame should any of their peers unearth the truth about what they had been harboring in their household for ten years.  
  
'Nothing but a burden to them,' he thought with a bitterness that had become permanently ingrained in him. He irritably straightened the navy blue oversheet on his bed as he recalled the past ten years of his life. Not once in his life, after the age of six or seven, could he remember his parents outwardly display any sort of positive emotion they might have held for him. While he longingly looked out of the window of his second story room at boys his age, playing Muggle games like baseball with their fathers, his own made it very clear that he wanted nothing more to do with his son than neccessary. He had been ashamed to call a werewolf his son and refrained from doing so unless obligation made it unavoidable. At least his mother had made her disdain slightly more subtle, providing Remus with the excuse that their actions had been done with his best interests in mind. Remus was not convinced.   
  
Ten years had passed without a hug or a kiss or any physical or psychological sign of love or affection. Nine and a half, to be exact. Remus smiled fondly, remembering the events of the past five months. 'Who would have thought?' he told himself silently. He reclined on his recently made bed and stared at the ceiling, blind to the swirling paint designs adorning the ceiling, but seeing instead a face with angular aristocratic features and eyes the grey of a storm at sea.   
  
Since entering Hogwart's at the age of eleven, Remus had made a handful of friends. The closest of which were James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black. His three companions knew of his secret, discovering it through their own wits, not needing him to inform them of it. They were all in the same house at Hogwart's, Gryffindor. There was one other, however. His name was Lucius Malfoy and although he was in Slytherin house, he and Remus had grown so close that he often believed that fate accidentally separated them into two separate bodies. His relationship functioned on so many different levels with that one boy than it did with even James or Sirius. They had begun their careers at school as enemies, taunting each other ceaselessly in the corridors, and getting into a few brazen fist fights on the grounds, all resulting in detention with Professor McGonagall.   
  
It was not until a chance meeting, perhaps coordinated by the gods, in the Forbidden Forest that Lucius came to know his innermost secret. Performing a dare he had been too proud to refuse, Lucius wandered into the forest surrounding the castle and came upon the Whomping Willow, which for over five years had proved to be a suitable shelter for Remus for the duration of the full moon, a period which he found that he could hardly retain his most simple aspects of humanity. He had spent three days in the Shrieking Shack, including the nights before and after the full moon, when his strength was at its weakest. He knew he probably should have stayed at least one more day to recuperate, but he had shunted reason due to loneliness.   
  
It was on his way back to the castle, navigating through the woods he had come to know so well that he stumbled upon Lucius. Literally. Remus could still remember the look of utter shock that graced his rival's face after they had run into each other on the seldom used path in the woods. He had a carefully devised excuse as to why he was wandering alone in the Dark Forest in the wee hours of the morning, which coincidentally was identical to Lucius' actual reason. After harsh words exchanged on both ends, Remus' escape from Lucius' suspicious scrutiny had almost been complete. Almost.   
  
//////////////////////////////  
Five months ago   
/////////////////////////////  
  
Remus gritted his teeth, restraining the desire to pummel the boy standing in front of him. They had been standing on the dirt path for nearly five minutes trading insults and excuses.   
  
"Where are your friends, Lupin? Hiding in the bushes somewhere?" Lucius said, his trademark sneer marring the perfection his face would have been.   
  
"No. They're at the castle, and speaking of which, I should probably go join them," Remus said, the finality in his tone making it evident that he had no desire to remain in the woods.   
  
"Right . . . you must be horribly lonely without them. They are the only people willing to be seen with you, after all." Lucius had no idea how true those words had been.   
  
Remus knew he shouldn't have lost his temper, especially not the night after he had harnessed the wolf inside him. Lucius' words had struck a cord deep within, awakening the memories and pain he had spent the past five years laying to rest, with the help of his friends. He narrowed his eyes and growled at Lucius. He actually growled at him, releasing a deep guttural sound, bubbling up from his abdomen. He probably could have passed it off as a hidden talent or something equally as ridiculous and hardly plausible so that Lucius would leave the forest none the wiser. What Remus had no control over, though, was the change that took place in his eyes. Not enough time had passed since his last transformation and the wolf was still residing close to the surface. His pupils dilated, shifting from their usual brown to a golden amber, glowing in the dim light provided by his bane, the moon. He knew, in an instant what had happened, from the look of shock on Lucius' normally controlled countenance.   
  
Before Lucius could form a single word, Remus regained his control and stifled the animal inside him. "Lucius, listen to me. What just happened -- "  
  
"You're a werewolf. A fucking werewolf," Lucius said, his voice a whisper. Remus thought the other boy would have turned and ran from him if he hadn't been rooted to the spot with shock.  
  
"Lucius, you have to understand . . .," Remus began, but was unsure how to continue. He had never imagined himself being forced to explain his condition to anyone, much less Lucius Malfoy. James, Peter, and Sirius had already come to terms with it before they let him know that they had discovered it on their own accord.   
  
Remus had been expecting many things from Lucius. Disgust, something he had grown accustomed to over the past ten years. Fear. Anger. Malice. Threats to get expelled. The last thing he would have dared expect was Lucius' next question.   
  
"Does Dumbledore know?" Lucius said in a soft voice, barely above a whisper.   
  
It was not so much his inquiry that startled Remus, but the look in his eyes. Dancing behind the swirling grey was a gleam of unbridled awe. Not fear, or revulsion, or misunderstanding. A simple curiosity of a boy faced with something that had long resided in his mind as nothing more than a tale, a story that held no deeper meaning. Lucius looked at Remus as if he as a design from his imagination brought to life, a character from some book read long ago given flesh and life. Remus wasn't sure what to make of it.   
  
"Yes," he said, his voice so soft, it carried only to Lucius' ears, "He knows."   
  
Lucius nodded, a different look coming to his eyes. The inquisitive expression remained, but the childlike awe had been replaced by an older, intelligent look.   
  
"So, you're not dangerous or anything?" Lucius asked. Remus' surprise increased when he noticed that the blonde boy in front of him had not made a single movement away from him, but instead took a small step forward, apparently unafraid.   
  
"Yes . . . yes, I'm dangerous. Very dangerous," Remus responded. Spurred on by the slight change in expression on Lucius' face, he quickly added, "But only during the full moon." He was still uncertain about Lucius' actions. Were they good or bad? He supposed he would find out soon enough.   
  
Lucius, full of surprises, cocked his head to one side. "So . . . what happened?"   
  
Remus blinked. 'What did he just ask? Why isn't he running away, screaming? Doesn't he understand what I am? Has it occurred to him that I'm a monster?' The thoughts ran rampant through his head, one quickly followed by another, but he had answers to none of them.   
  
"I got bit," he said, resorting to the simplest response he knew of. Suddenly, the severity of the situation became known to Remus.   
  
"Lucius, you can't tell anyone about this. They won't understand. Dumbledore'll be bombarded with owls from parents. I'll get kicked out. People don't want their children to be in the same building as a monster -- " Remus was cut short by an explosion of laughter. An explosion of very unexpected laughter. Riotous laughter. Howling laughter. Laugh-so-hard-you-start-to-cry laughter.   
  
"You? Remus Lupin, saint of Gryffindor . . . a monster?" Lucius regained some semblance of self control, a smile still playing on his thin lips. "Merlin, Lupin . . . even I know you better than that."   
  
Remus blinked again. Confusion must have been reverberating off him in waves because Lucius continued, his face no longer holding any signs of laughter.   
  
"You wouldn't hurt a fly, Lupin. No matter what they think," Lucius said, "Now . . . tell me. What happened?" What had happened to the arrogant, hateful Slytherin Remus had been tormented by for the past five years? Where did he go?   
  
"Why do you want to know?" Remus asked, his suspicions once again aroused. Lucius rolled his eyes, impatient arrogance shining through.   
  
"Because I'm curious. You being a werewolf is just so obscenely out of character." "You . . . you mean . . . you're not going to run off and tell the rest of the school what they're harboring?"  
  
Lucius gave him a long meaningful look, too complex for Remus to decipher. "No. I figure if you're here on Dumbledore's approval, he'd shit a cat if I told anyone."   
  
Remus was vaguely reminded of his first converation with James, Peter, and Sirius about his lycanthropy.   
  
"Thank you," he whispered. Those two simple words said so little and meant so much. "Yeah. Sure. Now, what happened?"   
  
They sat in the forest and talked for hours. Lucius, in his curiosity, made Remus start from the very beginning. Remus told the other boy about the attack, his visit to the wizarding hospital, the conversation between the doctor and his parents when he told them about their son's affliction. Lucius continued to pry until he came to the painful truths Remus was unwilling to disclose. Remus, however, felt a connection had grown between the two of them during the past few hours. Lucius had listened intently, often interrupting to cover bits of the tale he had missed or jumping ahead to areas Remus had yet to cover. He steeled himself for the facts of his life he was about to share with the most unlikely person he could think of. He told him of his parents, everything they had done and said, they way in which they treated him. He told him how they locked him in his room, the only room in the house with a metal door, for up to three nights every month, for fear he would sneak out of the house and a neighbor would spot him. He told Lucius everything, continuing until he would dare not venture any longer.   
  
He stopped his narrative when he realized his face was moist. He had been crying. He had been crying and Lucius Malfoy had seen it.   
  
Remus hastily wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe, not daring to look into the other boy's eyes.   
  
"It's alright, Lupin," Lucius' voice came to him, "it's okay."   
  
"What?" Remus asked, startled by the gentle tone that was held in Lucius' voice. He had never heard that from anyone other than Sirius, James, and Peter. He most certainly had never dreamed that it would ever come from Lucius Malfoy.   
  
"I said, it's okay," Lucius repeated. He placed one hand under Remus' chin, forcing the other boy to look directly at him. "If you need to get it out, go right ahead. Your parents suck. Hell, mine don't even treat me like that and they abhor me."   
  
Remus couldn't control himself any longer. He had tried to conceal the pain and tears from his three best friends, refusing to let them see his weakness. He couldn't hold it in for another minute. Fresh tears cascaded down his cheeks, and he bowed his head again, this time because of the sobs that had been racking his chest, not from embarrassment.   
  
  
He was barely aware of Lucius' movement, until he felt two arms, two very warm, sturdy arms, wrap around his shoulders and pull him close. Lucius' chest was surprisingly comfortable, yet just as strong as his arms. Remus unconsciously buried his face in Lucius' shoulder, not realizing what he was doing until it was done. He felt Lucius' hand rest on his back, slowly rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. Remus was trapped between shock and comfort. 'What happened to the Lucius Malfoy I used to know,' he thought numbly, snuggling closer to the other boy, finding a more comfortable position for the both of them.   
  
They sat like that for a while, long after Remus' tears had subsided. Remus was half-sitting in Lucius' lap with his head resting in the juncture where the other boy's neck met his shoulder. His forehead was pressed against the exposed skin of Lucius' neck and the sensation was strangely comforting. Lucius' arms remained around his shoulders and chest, holding him firmly but gently against his body. This was different from the casually platonic and utterly masculine hugs he occasionally received from James and Sirius. This was comforting, protective. It gave him a sense of belonging, an emotion that was unfortunately a rarity in his life. Remus noticed without much concern, that the sun had begun to rise over the trees of the forest, chasing away the darkened gloom and granting a meager amount of light to the woods.   
  
Remus sniffled, bringing them both back to reality and away from the warm cocoon they had created for themselves, where nothing existed beyond their embrace. He turned his head to the side, nuzzling Lucius' shoulder. Remus was vaguely aware of Lucius' hand still tracing circular patterns on his back. He breathed in Lucius' scent, slightly intermingled with the scents of the forest around them. He brought his hands up to wrap around Lucius' middle, accidentally bringing them closer than they had been. He felt Lucius' head stir, feeling, rather than seeing the other boy look down at him.   
  
Remus looked up and he knew his face must have been a brilliant shade of crimson. He had never let anyone see him cry before and now he found himself in the arms of the one person he thought he had loathed.   
  
"You okay now, Lupin?" Lucius asked, a faint hint of a smile pulling at his lips.   
  
"I have a first name, you know," Remus responded, his embarassment fading somewhat.   
  
"Fine. You okay now, Remus?" Lucius asked, now smiling full force. The sound of his name coming from those lips caused a stange feeling in Remus that had nothing to do with embarrassment.   
  
"Yeah . . . " he said, his voice trailing off. For a while they sat there, simply looking at each other, each unwilling to break the comfortable silence that had fallen on them. Then, as if driven by some temporary madness, Lucius bowed his head to Remus, closing the short distance between their faces. He stopped, his nose practically touching Remus' and their lips only an inch or so apart.   
  
"What are you doing?" Remus asked. The night had held too many strange occurrences for him to be startled by Lucius' odd behavior anymore.   
  
"I don't know," the other boy whispered, leaning in closer, diminishing the distance between their lips.   
  
Remus had never felt anything like it. He had actually never kissed anyone before. It was different from what he expected. Rather than the unpleasantness of combined saliva, it was sweet and soft. Lucius, obviously more experienced in such matters, moved his lips against Remus', holding the boy captive with nothing but his mouth. Remus felt Lucius' tongue gently tickle his lower lip, begging for entrance, which Remus granted willingly. Remus felt the boy's tongue dance along his, exploring the depths of his mouth, grazing his own tongue and causing sensations that affected his entire body. They continued like this for some time, mouths crushed against one another, tongues swirling in a slow, carnal dance, tasting each other with a fervor that had been resting within both of them.   
  
Reluctantly, Remus pulled away, the need for air becoming unbearable. He brought his face only an inch away from Lucius', gazing into the other boy's eyes, looking for something he wasn't quite sure of. Lucius returned his gaze, saying more with his eyes than he ever could with frivolous words. In that instant, Remus knew he had found something he had only read about. His mate. The one person he would share his life with, bound together both in spirit and in flesh to form a union that would endure until death. From the look in Lucius' grey eyes, he had a feeling that Lucius understood, although he might not have the words to place the thought.   
  
Lucius abruptly looked up, noticing for the first time, the risen sun. He slowly stepped away from Remus, still holding on to one hand to help the other boy rise to his feet. "We're gonna be late for breakfast," Lucius said, a rare genuine smile gracing his lips, erasing all traces of the sneer he seemed to incessantly wear. His eyes still held the same look of understanding and something else. Something Remus feared to name, for if he was wrong, he was not certain he could bear it. 'Love,' a voice whispered in his mind, caressing his inner thoughts like a breeze over grass, 'that's what you're seeing. It's love.'   
  
He knew then. He knew it without a doubt and accepted it readily. He let Lucius lead him out of the Forbidden Forest and back to the castle, only dropping his hand once they entered its large wooden doors.   
  
///////////////////////////////////////   
  
  
Remus remembered it fondly, as if it were yesterday. He didn't know how he had managed it, but for the first time in his life, he had convinced his parents to let him have a friend over the house. After persistent urging, they had finally relented. Remus had a sneaking suspicion that the actually wanted to see if this friendship was indeed true or if it was merely another way in which they could bring more pain to their son.   
  
A feminine voice brought him back from his private thoughts. It came from the living area downstairs. His mother was calling his name.   
  
"Remus, dear," he cringed at her insincere usage of the affectionate term, "Lucius is here."  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
  
A.N. - Well, that's the end of the first chapter. It felt rushed in certain places, but I hope you approved. The second installment will be coming shortly, but as always, it depends on whether or not my feedback inspires me. I appreciate any and all reviews. Thanks! ^_^  
  
  
-- M.A. Blackthorn 


	3. Home, Sweet Home

Broken Glass (3/?)  
  
M.A. Blackthorn  
  
Disclaimer: See previous chapters.  
  
A/N - I put a lot of effort into this chapter and I would appreciate your reviews. Thanks. On with the show.  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
`````````````````````  
  
Ch. 2 Home, Sweet Home  
  
`````````````````````  
  
  
  
Remus hopped off his bed, suddenly feeling like a ten year old boy on Christmas morning. He amused himself for a short moment by checking his appearance in the mirror in the adjoining bathroom. He knew Lucius wouldn't care about his being beautiful for him, but a little primping couldn't hurt.  
  
Once he found himself satisfactory, he all but flew out of his room, all grace and dignity forgotten at the thought of being reunited with Lucius after a hellish few weeks without him. After all the hard knocks dealt to him by the unseen hand of fate, he'd finally gotten a break. He got to have Lucius with him for a whole two weeks. It couldn't have gotten any better. God himself would have to strike him down to spoil this for him.  
  
Remus bounded down the stairs, unable to contain his glee. When he reached the last step, he skipped off, turned the corner into the foyer, and stopped short. What he saw made his breath catch and his heart skip a beat. Lucius was standing next to Remus' mother, dwarfing her with his height, wearing his usual all black attire. But now . . . it looked different. It didn't give him the same pale countenance it usually did, contrasting with his light skin, but rather his skin tone had caught up with it. Lucius had been bronzed in the sun, not truly tanned, but color had most certainly been added to his otherwise marble white skin. His tan accented his platinum hair, lending it a sort of golden radiance. In other words, he was hot. Remus was certain he had never seen a creature nearly as beautiful as Lucius appeared to him then. His two weeks spent on his father's yacht in the south of France had done him some good.  
  
His mother spoke, bringing him out of his stupor. He hadn't realized he'd been staring. 'Smooth,' he thought to himself.  
  
"Honey," she said, "Aren't you going to welcome your guest?"  
  
He was willing to overlook her term of endearment. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to run to Lucius and plant a long, soul searing kiss on his lips,. He felt as if he were physically pulled toward him, but he knew he couldn't exactly ravage his boyfriend with his mother as an audience.  
  
He walked towards Lucius, who smiled at him, seeming to know exactly what he was doing to him. Despite his body's protests, Remus extended his hand for a friendly handshake. His hand was enveloped by Lucius' own, the touch warming Remus' entire body.  
  
"I'm glad you could make it, Lucius," Remus said, his tone oddly detached.  
  
"And I'm glad you invited me," Lucius responded, that smile still gracing his lips. A mischievous twinkle in his eye accompanied it. Remus had an odd feeling that the other boy was thinking of exactly what he would do with him once they were away from his mother's eyes.  
  
His mother's shrill voice cut into their shared moment of reunion, "Oh, I'm so happy you have a friend over, Remus."  
  
Remus shared a look with Lucius whose responding look told him he knew exactly what he was thinking. What bullshit.  
  
He looked back to his mother who was gazing at them curiously, unasked questions written across her face. Remus knew she must have picked up on something, after all, his mother wasn't a complete failure of a human being. He just hoped she didn't know exactly what she was missing.  
  
"Well, I guess I'll just leave you two boys alone now," she said, "I have some cleaning up in the kitchen I need to finish. Remember, your father will be home from work at around seven, so don't wreck the house or play any loud music."  
  
With that, she gave them one last curious glance and then retreated out of the foyer, disappearing into the large arched opening that served as the entrance to the kitchen. Both Remus and Lucius kept their eyes on her as she left the room, making certain that she was well out of hearing range.  
  
Remus was the first to break the silent paralysis that had fallen on them. He pulled Lucius down to him, capturing the taller boy's lips with his own. He kissed him with all the pent up stress, irritation, passion, love, and longing that he'd felt over the past few weeks, hoping through it, he could convey just how much he had missed him. He ran his hands through Lucius's short, soft hair, feeling his mate, HIS mate, return the kiss with equal fervor, relishing in the feel of their lips crushed against each other. Lucius' arms wrapped around his middle, pulling Remus as close against him as the laws of physics would allow. Remus moaned into Lucius' mouth, making it known to him that he appreciated the gesture.  
  
The kiss ended all too quickly. Lucius pulled away from Remus, chuckling softly at the sight before him. Remus had an idea of how he must look. Passion flushed cheeks, kiss bruised lips, eyes glazed over. He knew this because Lucius looked exactly the same way. Lucius brought his hands up from where they were resting on Remus' hips, cradling the smaller boy's face in his hands. He brushed his thumbs along Remus' cheekbones, sending what felt like small electric charges through the other boy's skin.  
  
"A little enthusiastic, Remus?" Lucius, said, smiling now, not in mischief, but in happiness. Remus pouted, knowing it could make Lucius melt right into his socks. Lucius leaned forward and kissed him, quickly and chastely.  
  
"Well, what did you expect? You ran off on your glorious summer vacation getaway, leaving me with these demonic parents of mine for a whole two weeks," Remus said. He had surprised himself. He truly hadn't meant to sound quite so bitter.  
  
Lucius flinched at Remus' tone and said, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, but I'm here now, right? Do you have any idea how hard it was to convince my mother that I had to come home NOW? That's gotta count for something, right?"  
  
Remus' expression softened and he couldn't help but notice that his Lucius had a startling resemblance to a puppy begging for pat on the head. He tilted his head to the side and softly kissed Lucius' chin. He felt him relax, knowing that he wasn't angry with him.  
  
"Well, I'm still annoyed, Mr. Malfoy," Remus said, smiling, "I do hope you plan to make this up to me." He hoped Lucius would pick up on his innuendo.  
  
"Oh, I most certainly do," Lucius replied. He grabbed Remus' hand and yanked the other boy upstairs, quickly located his room and slammed the door shut behind them.  
  
* * *  
  
Remus looked down at his lap, which was currently serving as a pillow for one blonde haired wonder. Lucius returned his gaze, his eyes bearing a dreamy sort of quality. Lucius raised his hand towards Remus' face, tracing the other boy's jaw. Remus mirrored the action, moving the hand that had been previously resting on Lucius' chest and bringing it to the reclined one's face. His other hand remained where it was, gently stroking Lucius' hair. He still could not accept the fact that this was his. All his. Not for anyone else to share. Just his.  
  
"All mine," Remus whispered, unaware that he had spoken aloud. Lucius laughed quietly.  
  
"A bit possessive now, are we?"  
  
"Possessive? Who? Me? Pfft," Remus said, smiling in return. Things couldn't get any better.  
  
Lucius remained silent, asking with his eyes for something he very well should have grown tired of long ago. Remus complied, bending down to brush his lips against Lucius' in the slightest of kisses. He was caught off guard as Lucius' hand pressed against the back of his head, bringing him further down, and increasing the force of the kiss.  
  
This had been going on for over an hour. When they had first reached Remus' room, Lucius had been all too eager to make up for upsetting Remus. Remus had been shoved onto his bed, which he had made what seemed like ages ago, barely registering that the sheets were going to get all messed up. Lucius had crawled on top of him, letting him know who was going to take charge of the particular escapade. Their kissing had been ceaseless, infused with passion and intense as anything. The only thing that stopped them from taking it one step further was the knowledge that Remus' mother was right downstairs. Anything more would have been highly inappropriate.  
  
After the initial thrill had subsided, they'd taken to simple cuddling, basking in each other's presence. They had talked very little, the need for words had long since passed and the barest touch and a soundless look were all they need to communicate.  
  
This was how they'd ended up, with Remus sitting on his bed, his back resting against the wall and Lucius stretched out lengthwise, his head comfortably positioned on Remus' lap. A glance at the bedside clock told Remus that it was 6:57 p.m. His father was due home at any minute. As pleasant as the situation was, Remus knew they couldn't stay this way forever.  
  
"We should move," Remus said quietly, reluctant to disturb one of the few moments he and Lucius had to be alone.  
  
"Why?" Lucius asked, "Your dad?"  
  
Remus nodded in reply and said, "We wouldn't want to be seen in this . . . ah . . . compromising position." He added a smile for Lucius' benefit.  
  
Wordlessly, Lucius sat up and rearranged himself so that his back was to the wall, his shoulder touching Remus.' He turned his head to the side and easily closed the distance between them for a quick kiss.  
  
They separated when they heard the front door open, signaling the return of Remus' father. 'Drat,' he thought to himself, 'Back to the platonic charade.' Just another raindrop to add to the torrential downpour on his parade.  
  
Remus could hear his father moving about downstairs and he was struck by a stab of dread at the thought of him ascending the stairs and entering his personal haven. It was more than the anxiety of his overprotective mate meeting his domineering father, but the tangle of nerves he felt was caused by the knowledge that it was nearly the full moon. He expected his father to take the usual "safety precautions" as his mother liked to call them. He preferred the term "unduly provoked imprisonment."  
  
"It's almost the full moon," Remus said, very well aware of the sound of his father's heavy footsteps on the staircase. Lucius's eyes narrowed, letting the smaller boy know that he heard it, too, and understood Remus' unspoken plea. An air of protectiveness stole over his features, an expression that all but shouted: "Can't touch. Mine."  
  
The sound of the footsteps had now reached the hallway.  
  
"I see," was all Lucius said, his tone cold enough to inflict a bad case of hypothermia on any unsuspecting target.  
  
There was an audible click in the hallway as Remus' father stopped to turn on the overhead light. Remus took this as his cue to scoot further away from Lucius on the bed. He felt as though his body was protesting his brain's command, unwilling to be separated from the body heat and fuzzy warmness that was his boyfriend. Lucius took Remus' unspoken advice and distanced himself as well, so that they were now seated as opposite ends of the bed.  
  
'See, dad,' Remus thought, his mental voice laced with bitterness, 'Just friends. Your son isn't madly in love with another man. Oh no. Not at all.'  
  
There was a sharp knock on Remus' bedroom door, which was a rather meaningless gesture, since the knocker had no intentions of waiting for a response. The intruder entered the room, with no preamble, and gave the two inhabitants a undefinable look, his gaze resting on the smaller one, that was his son. Remus offered an equally blank look in return, leaving Lucius to glance surreptitiously from one face to the other. A palpable tension hung in the room and it nearly crackled with visible light between the boy and his father.  
  
"Good evening, son," the older man said. Remus put all his effort into holding back a cringe.  
  
"Hi, Dad," Remus said, nearly choking out the last word. The simple act of forming it on his tongue left a vile taste in his mouth.  
  
"So, this is your friend," Mr. Lupin said, giving Lucius a once-over that reminded Remus of a sheriff staring down a suspect. It made him uneasy, to say the least.  
  
"His name is Lucius, Dad," Remus said, willing himself to keep the venom he felt bubbling under the surface to creep into his carefully neutral voice.  
  
The only response he received was a nod in Lucius' direction and a grunt under the man's breath. Remus supposed his father didn't quite yet know what to think of Lucius. He simply hoped it was nothing bad. It wasn't that Remus was just dying for his boyfriend to get his abusive father's approval; that would be ridiculous, bordering on insane. He just didn't wish for Lucius to be subjected to his father's frequent outbursts because of him.  
  
"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," was all his father said as he turned on his heel and left the room, shutting the door with as much force as he could without slamming it.  
  
Lucius turned to Remus and said, "Is he always that dreadful?"  
  
Remus shook his head, not wanting anything more than to throw himself into the safety and security of Lucius' arms, but didn't. He wouldn't risk being caught red-handed with his father in such close proximity. He could, after all, hear him retreating down the hallway to his parent's bedroom.  
  
"Are you kidding?" Remus said, taking Lucius' hand, "That was him on his best behavior."  
  
***  
  
Dinner was an uneventful affair, consisting of "Would you pass the peas?" and "How was your day at work, dear?" The tension in the room served as icing on Remus' Happy Day From Hell cake.  
  
After the dishes had been cleared and the dining table vacated, Remus' father ordered him upstairs with a look. Remus turned to Lucius as his father mounted the stairs and told him, without the aid of words, that he would in all likelihood, not see him again for the rest of the night. Lucius' eyes narrowed again, the only outwardly visible sign to his discomfort.  
  
Remus followed his father's larger figure to his room, knowing full well what was about to happen. His father would lock him away, as he had done every full moon since the age of six, like the monster he believed him to be. He knew his father saw him as no son of his. Just a burden, a creature that needed to be hidden away from the virgin eyes of the rest of civilized society. He had once believed the same until, on one star riddled night, he had encountered a certain blonde whirlwind of a boy deep within the Forbidden Forest. He would have smiled at the memory, had his situation not been so grim.  
  
His father remained in the doorway as Remus stepped inside his temporary prison. He turned to look at his father, his facial features schooled to appear blank.  
  
"Does he know?" his father asked, not needing to ask what exactly it was that someone may or may not know.  
  
"What? That your one and only son is a filthy, rotten beast?" Remus said, regretting the words as soon as they had left his mouth. He had always tried to avoid provoking his father, but his recent time spent with Lucius had given him a foolhardy amount of extra nerve.  
  
Before he could react, his father's hand struck him across his face, the backhanded slap leaving a sharp throb on his cheek. The blow had been so hard, Remus felt as though his mouth was simultaneously numb and on fire.  
  
"Don't you dare use that tone with me. I've kept you under this roof and away from people because you can't control the goddamn monster in you and you know it. You should be thanking me for even keeping you here," Remus' father spat at his son, who was still reeling in pain from the blow and trying not to show it.  
  
"Yes, sir," Remus replied, his voice lacking all feeling.  
  
"Good. Remember that," the older man said, "I'll tell that friend of yours that you're not feeling well and you've gone to bed. You shouldn't be disturbed."  
  
The thought of separation from his mate caused a lump to form in Remus' throat. He tried to swallow it down, but to no avail, and the only sound that escaped him was an almost inaudible worless lament. As if he could sense Remus' discontent, his father stopped in his tracks, and without turning to face his son, threw one last comment over his shoulder.  
  
"You know, if he knew what you really were, what secret you've been hiding . . . he wouldn't be here."  
  
The door shut, leaving Remus to stare at it morosely. He felt an modicum at satisfaction at knowing just how mistaken his father's assumption had been.  
  
'If you only knew, Dad. If you only knew.'  
  
***  
  
From the small window in his room, Remus could watch the full moon as it clearly shone in the blackened sky, unabated by the clouds. It illuminated his room with a pale glow. None of the lights were on, as Remus had been too depressed to bother with them. His thoughts wondered to Lucius and what the other boy was doing at the moment. Surely, he knew that his father was lying about his condition, but he couldn't figure out why Lucius simply didn't waltz in here, carry him out of the house, and ride off into the sunset on his trusty white steed. Or maybe just pick the lock and sneak out the window. It was all the same to Remus.  
  
He buried his snout in his outstretched paws. With the rise of the full moon, Remus had undergone his transformation from boy to wolf. He could probably temporarily shift back to human form if he willed it so, but the prospect of sulking on his bed as a human was far less appealing than doing so as a wolf. As he shed his human appearance, he lost some of his human idiosyncrasies as well. He might still be subject to anguish, but it was not nearly as concentrated as it would have been, had he been human.  
  
He wondered during a brief bout of insanity if his father had actually been right. Perhaps Lucius wasn't all that interested in sharing his life with someone who turned furry once a month. He quickly dispelled the theory, reminding himself that Lucius was very well aware of his lycanthropy and what came with it. Lucius had made it clear that he had accepted the full package: nothing more, nothing less.  
  
He whimpered and placed his large paws over his snout. It would have been a cute gesture, had it not been so downright depressing. His ears perked up at the sound of metal clicking against metal. The noise continued, growing more and more apparent, until the doorknob slowly turned. The door was opened excrutiatingly slowly, as if the person behind it was terrified of it creaking on its hinges. Light spilled in from the hallway, casting a thin streak of brightness on the floor. Lucius poked his head in and Remus could have sworn he saw the other boy melt when his eyes fell on him. He must have made a damn cute wolf.  
  
Lucius slid through the narrow opening, afraid to open the door any further, and silently closed it behind him. He cautiously crept towards the bed and peered down at Remus.  
  
"You're not going to eat me, are you?" He asked, only half in jest.  
  
Remus shook his shaggy head and was rewarded with a scratch behind his ears. He knew it was strange, being petted by his boyfriend, but at the moment, he really didn't care. Lucius was here and they would soon ride into the night like cowboys.  
  
"All right, then," Lucius said, "Let's get out of here."  
  
Remus hopped off the bed and padded as quietly as wolfishly possible behind Lucius to the guest bedroom.  
  
***  
  
Once they had reached the sanctuary of the guest bedroom, Remus had forced his body to resume it's traditional form: human. It had taken quite a bit of effort, but he'd succeeded. He was also very naked. Under any other circumstances, Remus would have been delighted at the thought of being nude in Lucius' bedroom, but the other boy had other things planned right now. His mind was safely out of the gutter.  
  
Lucius had handed him a pair of pants and a shirt, after explaining to Remus that he had covertly smuggled them out of his room earlier that evening. Remus' initial joy brought on by his resuce had faded, leaving him feeling rather debased. One look at Lucius told the other boy exactly how he felt, and before he knew it, Lucius was sitting next to him, his arms wrapped around his shoulders. He rested his head on the other boy's chest, trying to repel the feelings of hopelessness and dejection from his consciousness.  
  
"Shh," Lucius whispered, "We're gonna get out of here. He won't hurt you again, not like that, not ever again. I promise."  
  
When the first tears cascaded down his cheeks, Lucius brought up his hand to brush them away. Remus leaned into the touch. He felt Lucius' fingers beneath his chin, tilting his face upwards, where Lucius' mouth met his. He didn't know how long they remained there kissing. He was too preoccupied with the taste, feel, and scent of Lucius to heed the tiny voice in his head telling him that they needed to move now or else.  
  
He did not register the barely audible swear coming from the other side of the hallway. No, he was more focused on the feel of Lucius' hand at the small of his back. Nor did he hear the creeping footsteps approaching the guest room. Just then, Lucius had run his tongue along Remus', sending tingly sensations down his spine. He was so thoroughly drowned in the essence of the boy in front of him, the taste of his lips crushed against Lucius' that he almost didn't open his eyes when the door was thrown open with a bang.  
  
Remus saw Lucius' eyes fly open and they both turned startled faces towards the door. Remus' father stood there, a look of such abject disgust on his face, that it was one Remus had never seen before. He had seen his father at what he had thought was his worst, but all prior experiences fell short of the sight before him.  
  
His father was purple with rage. The man opened and closed his mouth, trying to voice his anger, and failing. He stalked towards the bed and grabbed hold of Remus' arm before Lucius could whisk him away.  
  
He was nearly dragged down the hallway and flung into his room, his face connecting with the hard wooden floor. He felt one large boot strike his ribs, before he heard the sound of retreating footsteps. Remus thought he felt something had cracked. He could scarcely hear muted yelling coming from the room across the hall.  
  
The tiny voice in the back of his head whispered, 'I told you so.'  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
-M.A. Blackthorn  
  
A/N - I apologize for my tardiness with this chapter, but as you can see, it is not short and it took quite a bit of planning. I was also working on a different story, "In th Absence of Lily," also posted here. As always, I beg and grovel for any and all reviews. Thank you. 


	4. Fool to Believe

Title: Broken Glass (4/?)

By: M.A. Blackthorn

Contact: Romance (slash), Drama

Keywords: Lucius Malfoy, Remus Lupin, slash, MWPP

Rating: R (slash, some language, and domestic violence)

Summary: Lucius and Remus fall in love. Remus hopes for a peaceful life with his mate, but his abusive father stands in their way. Both are sixteen years of age.

Spoilers: PoA

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I only own the plot.

A/N - Let's not count the years between updates. This is for A.L. Caraway, who's been there, through thick and thin.

Chapter 3

"You can't do that to him!" Lucius, shouted, as he tried to push past Remus' father. Remus was right behind that door. If he could only get to him.

"Don't you dare try to tell me what I can't do in my own home," the older man replied, his voice quiet and controlled. The initial rage had faded and in its stead there was something darker, meaner, and a spot more sinister. The alarm bells in Lucius' head were having a heyday. He was treading dangerous water now. He didn't need the sneaky little voice inside his head to whisper, 'Proceed with caution.'

Lucius stopped struggling. If the quality of the man's voice hadn't been enough to send most sane wizards running in the opposite direction, shrieking in terror and clawing their own eyes out, the look in his eyes, the determined set of his jaw would have been. Funny how sanity never entered the equation. With as much determination as he could muster, he leveled his gaze on the elder Lupin. If Remus was to be safely vacated from the premises, there was to be no running or shrieking. Just plain old home-style chivalry.

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he heard a noise. A small distant sort of noise, but one that he recognized. The door to Remus' room was being tapped. No. Not tapped. The door was being pawed at. Nails, thick as those belonging to any wolf, scratched at the metal door, the noise having a strange reverberating quality. He heard a quiet whimpering, so soft that if he hadn't been listening, he would have missed it. That was it. Forget the straw, the camel was broken in fucking two.

"Do you really want me to leave?" Lucius asked, vaguely proud that his voice didn't shake with the barely restrained rage that was burning in his bloodstream so strongly it felt as though it might burst through his skin.

"You're damned right I want you to leave," he answered gruffly, "Get your faggoty arse the hell out of my house."

Lucius' lips curved upwards in a ghost of a smirk. 'If that's the game you want to play,' he thought, 'we'll play.'

"I'll get my faggoty arse out of your house," Lucius began, calm, calculating. A whine floated to him from behind the door. "But only if Remus' faggoty arse comes with me."

As a pureblood member of the most influential and affluent family of the wizarding world, Lucius Malfoy had not been exposed to what Muggle children across called Saturday morning cartoons. There had been one occasion in which he was privy to this early morning event with Remus courtesy of a stolen Muggle television in the Shrieking Shack (the television, of course, had been bewitched to function without satellites or electricity). Remus' presence, as it often did, distracted him from the bulk of the program - however, the one detail he vividly remembered was an exploding vein on the forehead of a stock character, accompanied by steam coming out of the ears, much like that of a locomotive. Remus' father, for a brief, yet impressive instant, reminded Lucius of this image. It should have been comical. It wasn't.

"That is enough!" Lupin shouted, each word punctuated by a shower of spittle. "This is my house and I refuse to tolerate this . . . this indecency. It's disgusting, is what it is . . . you disgust me as much as he does! It was bad enough before, but then he had to drag even more filth into this house. Now, you get out, you leave, right now!"

Hoping he sounded braver than he felt, Lucius responded, "And what if I don't?"

Lupin roared, the sound more animal than human. His fist shot out from his side with more speed than Lucius credited his portly body capable of and slammed into the hallway mirror behind his head. Glass shattered with a thunderous cacophony. Lucius felt shards raining onto his neck and back and barely registered a trickle of blood down his shirt.

Though he would never admit it aloud, to himself or anyone else, Lucius knew that for the moment, he was beat. There was no way he could stand against the deep rooted rage of this man, wandless, and without the slightest clue as to how to defend himself in a physical confrontation. Charm school hadn't quite covered fisticuffs.

'Sometimes the best way to win a fight is to concede defeat,' he thought grimly, as whining yaps drifted to him through the metal door of Remus' bedroom. Lucius could feel the other boy's fear as though they were joined by some intangible thread stronger and more palpable than any bodily contact. His throat was dry, his chest tight. He needed to get to Remus, he needed to hold him, or pet him, or tickle him behind his adorable wolfish ears and know that he was safe. It was a feeling of such necessity and required such immediate attention that he knew nothing would be accomplished by swapping insults and flaunting half-hearted bravado with a bigot.

"Point taken," Lucius muttered, unshed tears building pressure behind his eyes so badly it stung. The tightness in his chest swelled. 'Please, understand, Remus,' he thought, 'please.'

He turned on his heel and left Lupin standing in the hallway, in such supreme silence that he could hear the older man's labored breathing. He haphazardly tossed what possessions he'd missed while trying to make a clean getaway with Remus into his bag. Slinging the bag over one shoulder, he exited the room, and spared a single glance at Lupin before descending the staircase. The man was immobile, the knuckles of his right fist dripping blood onto the light blue carpet. Their eyes did not meet. Perhaps it was better that way. As a low mournful howl drifted down the stairs to wrap its eerily beautiful notes around him, Lucius knew he would not have the courage - or was it cowardice - to walk away again.

---

As a wolf, Remus' ears were capable of picking up the slightest noise, but he didn't need supernatural hearing to understand what was transpiring beyond the nigh impenetrable door separating him from the hallway, from his father, from Lucius, from freedom, from everything. Voices were raised – mostly his father's – harsh words exchanged – the row disrupted by a crash, deafening to his highly sensitive ears. A whimper escaped him – they had been so close. It hadn't mattered where they would go or what they would do. All that mattered was that he was going to get away, that he would never feel his father's hand striking his face, that would never be ashamed of his own duality because it had been embraced, not by himself, but by his mate. All that had mattered was Lucius.

The silence that followed was impossibly more disconcerting to Remus than the arguing had been. Had Lucius given up? Had he realized how much easier his life would be sans werewolf lover? He didn't know, couldn't tell, wouldn't accept that as truth. A fine trembling had started, first between his shoulders, then advancing throughout the rest of his body. He waited.

The sound of footsteps reached him from the hall – lighter, he thought, than his father's – and retreated down the stairs. Remus couldn't help the insane thought from entering his mind in a flash, 'You're going the wrong way. I'm over here, Lucius.' A second pair of feet – heavier this time – pounded down the hall, advancing on the room. The sound was nothing new to Remus. It was a scenario he'd lived more times than he'd care to admit, but this time, it was different. Lucius had been there and now he wasn't. This time, it was worse. The first footsteps had belonged to him and now they were gone, past the range of his hearing, down the stairs and away from Remus. This time lacked any and all familiarity. It felt like the first time. A howl was ripped from his throat, unwillingly, as if Lucius, in the act of walking from Remus, his father, and that blasted metal door, had tied a leash to it and dragged it from him, taking it with him down the stairs and out the door.

Remus had never quite understood the saying "out of body experience," but when he heard the scratching sound of the key being inserted into the lock on the door as though he, his father, and the door were all floating underwater, the sound waves almost visible in the air before him, he thought maybe that was what people meant. He was there, but he was elsewhere. He'd always had some form of escape mechanism in the past, but he knew without trying, that nothing would suffice now. Remus had never been accustomed to the notion of hope. It had seemed like a foreign anomaly. Something that happened, perhaps, in stories or on television, but never to him. He had never dreamed of the possibility of finding solace in such a seemingly ridiculous notion. It had appeared as nothing more than a waste of time. A child's fancy. An abstract that looked pretty on paper, but was incapable of translation into real life. But Remus knew differently now . . . he had tasted it, rolled it around in his mouth and savored it. It was like one of those optical illusions that one has to stare at for sixty seconds before the image appears. Once it was seen, it couldn't be unseen. It became imprinted in the mind's eye as deftly and permanently as if it had been there the whole time. And for Remus, that was very much what hope was like. It had teased him and now it had abandoned him and left him alone, used and bitter, much as he'd always been, with his father.

The door swung open, banging the adjacent wall, carried by its own weight and the force of his father's shove. He knew what was coming. He'd always known. The tiny voice returned, its tendrils tickling the insides of his skull, tormenting him and his silly notions of hope and rescues and cowboys and sunsets. He should have anticipated this. After a lifetime of the same, the possibility of change should have seemed preposterous, but it was testament to Lucius' power that the he had been able to make Remus forget the years of hurt and shame and convince him that he could run away. In the time they'd known each other, Lucius had caused Remus to embrace a slew of emotions – anger, irritation, love, joy – but this was the first time he'd been made to feel like a fool.

The blows fell harder than they ever had, the slaps had greater sting. Remus' life had been altered, unrecognizably, irrevocably within the span of several minutes. What had been, wasn't. What was, would never be. Each bruise blossomed with the fresh realization that despite the grandiose dreams of a naivete born of a first love, there was only one thing in life that was certain and that was pain. There would be no happy ending, no steed in the sunset, no credits rolling while the orchestra reached its crescendo.

As his father's footsteps receded and the bolts slid firmly into place, Remus slid down the wall, failing to notice - or perhaps failing to care - that the back of his head left a thin trail of blood down the wall.

'I told you so,' a nasty little voice whispered, smug as hell.

"You were a fool to believe," he whispered, to no one. The darkness didn't answer.


End file.
